Page 50 of Chasing Sarah

A sudden pang of regret hits me in the center of the chest, abating the rage I felt seeing her in that tee.

Whose could it be?

Why was she so defensive about it?

I’m striding down the hallway before I talk myself out of it. Ineedto know who that shirt belongs to. She’s mine and I’ll be damned if she believes otherwise.

Pushing open the bedroom door, I spot Sarah lying in bed. The blanket is wrapped tightly around her body. Something unsettling forms in my stomach at howfucking smallshe looks.

The Sarah I’ve seen is larger than life, loud without reservation, completely unyielding in being who she is.

This Sarah? This Sarah is the physical manifestation of sadness and vulnerability.

“Sarah?” I gently ease my way into the room, closing the door behind me. She doesn’t answer.

Though, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t really expecting her to. Especially after she told me to eat shit.

Rounding the edge of the bed, I come to the side where she lays. Her eyes and hair are the only parts left uncovered from the blanket. She stares right through me, not even acknowledging my existence.

“Baby?” I press calmly.

Her lashes flutter, blinking away her daze. Sorrow, unlike anything I’ve ever seen hits me in the soul the moment her eyes rise to mine.

“I’m not your baby,” she mutters, her voice so quiet, I nearly miss it.

I lower myself to my haunches, so I sit at eye-level with her. She studies me, an array of different emotions flashing rapidly in her irises. Never pausing on one for more than half a second.

I’m not even sure what to say. I’m not sure how to comfort her.

I’ve never truly comforted anyone aside from Emily, and she’s basically my kid-sister, though there is no blood relation.

Declan is a hardass, but his sister? She’s likely the sweetest person I’ve ever met so of course I’ve comforted her when she needed it.

I’ve never comforted any woman I’m fucking. Sure, I do aftercare but anything that involves actualfeelings? Never.

I’m completely out of my element right now.

We silently watch each other. The energy in the room is difficult to decipher.

“Leave me alone,” she mutters, before shifting so her back is to me.

My jaw ticks.

I want to push but I’m also conflicted. Whatever is going on with her, I don’t like it.

Does the shirt belong to a past lover?

I internally growl at the thought. If it did belong to someone in her past, was she in love with him? Is she still in love with him?

It seems like a high possibility if she nearly ripped out my jugular because of it.

Pursing my lips, I stare at her back.

Possessiveness and jealousy simmer in my veins.

She’smine.

“Go away, Rhys.” Her voice is muffled by the blankets she’s wrapped herself in.

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